Hunter
by Seventhe and Enkida
Summary: [FFIV] Heroes aren't always automatically granted a happily ever after... sometimes, winning is only the start of the battle.  Kain, Rydia, Edge and the aftermath of victory.
1. Penance: 01

_**AN**__** / Disclaimer:**__ Apparently Seventhe and Enkida are at it again, this time with a giftfic done for Katmillia. Sit back, enjoy, and please leave reviews if you read this. Rydia and Kain fanservice will increase by 680 percent for every review left. Guaranteed! Square-Enix owns all characters and rights to FFIV. No profit is being made from this fiction._

* * *

_If travel is searching  
And home what's been found  
I'm not stopping -  
I'm going hunting._

- Björk, "Hunter"

**Part I: Penance (1)**

A swell of loud, lively music drifted slowly across the cool evening air. The sounds of loud conversation and laughter created a low, pleasant hum which flooded the darkened courtyard of Castle Baron. A solitary figure tilted its head, listening to the hubbub created by the celebrants with the ghost of a smile on his face. He turned away from the light spilling out of the open doors and stared out instead over the battlements at the silent forests beyond.

"Kain! There you are!" There was a soft rustling of robes, and the faintest whiff of a subtle perfume carried on the air. Roses, as always - she took after her namesake, in more ways than one. He turned to face her, pale and fragile against the dark castle. A delicate flower in a garden of stone; he felt she didn't belong there. She was too beautiful to be trapped in such a harsh, unyielding cage; too vibrant to flourish under the restrictions of courtly love and propriety.

"Rosa," he greeted her quietly. Her head tilted as she looked him over, the hint of a frown marring her otherwise perfect features.

"You're still in your armour. For heaven's sake, you haven't even removed your helmet, Kain! Won't you relax just this once and join us inside?" She sighed heavily as he remained motionless, crossing her arms and slowly approaching him. "You're not being fair to Cecil, you know," she chided him softly. "This is your victory just as much as it is his. He already lost one brother."

Kain frowned and finally looked away from her. "I'm not his brother," he said curtly. Then he grimaced. No - she was right, of course. The way he was treating Cecil was unfair. It was no fault of the paladin that his life was charmed; that he had not only an ancient prophecy at his side, but also this beautiful flower. Even without looking, he was hyperaware of her presence by his side, her every movement, even the subtle motion of her golden curls in the evening breeze. He stiffened when he felt her tiny, delicate hands snake around his arm, drawing him close. Unheeding of the hard, uncomfortable metal of his Dragoon armour, she leaned against his shoulder and closed her eyes. He tried to ignore the weight of her head and focus on the moon overhead instead. It had lost much of its lustre, now that he had seen it up close. Just another one of the many memories he wished to be free of.

"Come inside," Rosa was saying, tugging at his arm gently. "We all miss you."

He almost snorted loudly at that. "Somehow I doubt that, Rosa." Cecil would have noticed his absence, to be sure. But Kain didn't want to see Cecil, the man of the hour, Baron's own triumphant hero. The light Cecil cast about himself only lengthened Kain's own shadows; Rosa, with her own naive hopes and dreams, could never understand that. And what of the others? The prince of Eblan, if not too busy chasing after the multitude of skirts swirling around the ballroom floor, would undoubtedly be mooning over their young, green-haired Caller. Their banter was amusing to watch, he had to admit; for being nearly ten years her senior, the cocky ninja never did seem to be able to show up the smart-mouthed Summoner. Still, he was certain that neither of them would truly lament over his absence; he was, after all, known best to both as a manipulative turncoat.

She was pulling at his arm again, this time more insistently. "Won't you come inside? For me?"

Kain felt himself stiffening. Why didn't she see? He did _everything_ for her. He would have brought down the moon itself, had she but asked. But nothing he did was good enough. He wasn't a hero, like Cecil. He was, and would always be, nothing more than a shadow - an echo of what _could have been._ Those echoes were whispering through his mind now, as he stared at Rosa, who was looking towards him with a beseeching expression. He felt his heart constrict painfully. "Why?" he asked roughly.

Rosa blushed prettily and looked down. Her feet slowed, and she broke her gaze away with a fleeting look of discomfort. "It's... well - Cecil and I, we've been talking, and -"

Kain slowed to a stop, feeling a sudden coldness overtake him. _No. It can't be._ He felt numb, even though he knew what she would say next; it was no surprise, really, though some part of him was still reeling in shock and hurt.

"He wants to announce the engagement tonight. I know," she added in a rush, her face turning a brilliant, lovely, _damnable_ shade of pink. "He's been courting me for ages, but after everything that's happened..." She trailed off, a distracted, wistful smile on her face. Her fingers, Kain noticed, were still tightly wound around his arm. "We don't want to wait any longer," she continued. "And Baron will need a Queen. We'll be wed at the coronation." She paused, turning to look at him once more. "I hope you'll be there." Her eyes were shining more brightly than the stars above, and oh, how it _ached_ just to watch her.

He found his voice again, somehow, digging past the sickening, churning sensation that was burning through his chest. He knew he was pale, and was thankful that the helmet hid his features from Rosa's observant eyes; he felt as though he were going to vomit. "My lady," he managed to say, though his voice was rough.

The sudden formality caught her off guard, and her fingers slipped from his arm, for which he was grateful. "Kain?" She sounded distant, but already he could hear the beginnings of the hurt under the question. She wasn't _that_ naive; she, too, knew what he would say, what he had to do, didn't she? Did she not know how he felt? Or did she deliberately ignore his feelings? Nay, Rosa was not that cruel - but how, then, could she be this blind?

"Go back to the others," he told her gently. When she remained still, he added to it: "I'm sure you will be very happy together."

She wavered in a pool of warm light spilling in from the doorway, uncertain, and he turned away, unable to look at her any longer. "Return to Cecil," he told her brusquely.

"Kain, I -" she began softly, hesitating when she saw him flinch. "... I'll see you inside," she finished quietly. Then, with another rustle of silk, she was gone.

He let out a soft sigh of relief, which morphed into a humourless, anguished bark. His rose was to be married, to Cecil of course. Always Cecil. His jaw clenched, and for a few moments, he was unable to move at all. When he finally regained control of himself, he turned and strode purposefully towards the castle. Not, however, towards the ballroom - rather, to the darkened corridors which led to the private chambers. He would have to work swiftly, before his absence was noticed. Though he had been reluctant before, now returning to the others was completely out of the question. Too much had passed between them all; he was already raw and exposed. And, Kain knew, Cecil would see. The paladin, his best friend, would take one look at him, helmet or not, and understand. Cecil might even call off the wedding, for the sake of words like _honour_ and _friendship_ - words which were wasted on someone as undeserving of them as himself. No, there was but one solution - Rosa, of course, would weep; he knew this. But she would have Cecil to lean on, and Cecil would understand - that sometimes, sacrifices were necessary, for the greater good.

One set of eyes watched Kain's departure; after a few moments, a robed figure separated itself from the shadows of the doorway and quietly trailed after him. The figure came to a stop in one of the castle's many, long hallways; a door had been flung open, and the sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the corridor. Moments later, Kain burst through the doorway, lance in hand, and pulled up short as he nearly rammed into the observer.

"Minh," Kain observed, taking a step back. Though his eyes were not visible, the elder could tell he had surprised the knight. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at the celebration?"

Minh shrugged, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "I imagine Palom is getting into all manner of mischief without me to scold him." He let out a short laugh at the thought. "Though I suppose Porom is doing her best to keep him from destroying the castle completely." He gave Kain a gentle smile. "The children should be allowed to enjoy themselves at a time like this. They hardly need my supervision at the moment... there will be time enough for that in Mysidia." His tone became sharper. "Tell me, Kain Highwind. Why do you deny yourself the same? You are a hero among us. You should accept your lauds."

The line of Kain's mouth tightened and dropped into a fierce frown. "I am no hero," he bit out sourly.

"We all have our moments of weakness," Minh replied. "But you have overcome yours. You are free! Why not join the rest of us and celebrate? It is not every evening that the world is saved and ancient prophecies are filled!"

Kain grimaced and swore under his breath. The Elder of Mysidia meant well, he knew, but his words were simply salt being rubbed into an already stinging wound. "I'm leaving. Don't try to stop me," he added abruptly, noting the older man's expression of surprise sourly. "And - don't tell the others yet, if you will. I don't wish to ruin this evening's... pleasantries."

He pushed past Minh and hurried down the dark hallway, giving a silent groan of annoyance as he heard the pattering footsteps of the Elder struggling to keep up with his quick stride.

"Kain! Wait!" More loud huffing and scuffling sounded as Kain studiously ignored him and picked up his pace. "Young man, stop this instant!" the Elder said loudly, his voice booming off the walls. Kain spun around, his mouth drawn as he observed the now-sweating man pull up to him, panting heavily.

"Not to be disrespectful, sir, but what exactly is it that you want of me?" Polite as it sounded, Kain's tone was chilling, in response to Minh's own sharp outcry. He was no student to be scolded for disobeying a mentor's instructions. The grip on his lance tightened fractionally as the Elder sighed at him.

"Kain. All I ask is that you allow me to walk with you. I will not attempt to hinder your path, but for the love of the Light, slow down! These old bones aren't as fast as they used to be," he added with a slight grimace, and Kain felt a pang of guilt stab at him.

How many of Elder Minh's aches and pains had resulted from Baron's attack on Mysidia? He slowed his step and allowed Minh to walk abreast of him as they approached the small township surrounding the Castle proper. It felt as though Minh was waiting for an explanation; despite his protest of being more than a simple delinquent student, a familiar sense of shame and responsibility filled him. "I mean to leave," he said suddenly, breaking the silence that had descended. "I don't belong here."

"You don't wish to remain at Cecil's side, serving as his most loyal knight?" Minh observed mildly, and once again Kain couldn't hide his flinch.

"I haven't earned that right," he said brusquely. They pulled to a stop by the small pond, listening to the whisper of the water-rushes swaying in the wind. Kain looked down into the water, seeing his own reflection ripple and sway. His armour gleamed darkly, almost black; the pointed spikes of his helmet made him look fearsome and demonic, much like the monsters his Knights were charged to hunt. Strange, how he had thought its appearance so noble before, so like the dragons they once rode. Now, it was nothing more than twisted metal, warping his features under cold steel and masking his eyes. His reflection mocked him; _pride goeth before a fall, oh mighty Dragoon._ "I don't deserve Cecil's forgiveness."

Another, smaller part of him twisted and curled in his breast; _I don't want Cecil's forgiveness,_ the darkness within himself spat angrily. _What I want is __**her.**_ He shuddered and closed his eyes, trying to forget his own jealousy, and failing miserably.

"Hmm," Minh sighed beside him. "So I see."

Kain looked up in surprise; of all the sentiments the old man could have expressed, _that_ was hardly what he had been expecting. A denial, perhaps a scolding or at the least a rebuttal of the sentiment. At the very least, a protest to his departure. He wondered, briefly, if his guilt made him so transparent.

"You are searching for absolution, the type which your friends can't give to you." Minh chuckled as Kain started next to him. "Young man," the elder said placidly, "I have seen many people journey to Mysidia seeking forgiveness. You are hardly the first," he noted, and Kain couldn't help but feel a stab of anger as he belatedly realized that Cecil had beat him in this, too.

"If I may make a suggestion," Minh continued blithely. "Most people who seek answers find them at the summit of Mount Ordeals. The Light resides there, accepting pilgrims who brave the journey. They say it is an experience which can change lives." He paused. "They do not lie."

Kain frowned to himself. It had seemed like the only solution at the time, to pack up and leave Baron as quickly as possible. But, he realized, he didn't have a goal, not even the faintest idea of where he was running to. _Away_ had seemed a good enough answer at the time. "This... Mount Ordeals," Kain repeated slowly. "Where might I find it?"

"Travel to Mysidia along the Serpent Road," Minh replied. "Bear east from there, into the forests. It is said, the mountain itself will find the pilgrim in need."

"East of Mysidia," Kain repeated. Minh offered no further explanation, and Kain sighed silently to himself, glancing back at his reflection. They weren't the most exact of directions, which was hardly comforting; Mysidia was much less settled than the holdings of Baron. The forests surrounding the small town were thick and wild, teeming with monsters. Any journey into them would be difficult enough; he wondered what he could hope to accomplish undertaking the task alone. A swift death, perhaps. And while Kain was looking for escape, he wasn't quite prepared to die on a fool's quest for the impossible.

Minh must have read some of this in his face, somehow, for the sage said gently: "If you stop in the Tower of Wishes in Mysidia and speak my name, two of the young mages will be given to accompany you to the mountain's summit."

Kain looked up again at this in sudden shock. His pride flared at the insult: he was no babe, to be watched by fledgling mages as he climbed a mystic mountain. Had he not trained with dragons as a child? Had he not accompanied Cecil to the moon? "With all due respect," he said stiffly. "This is my voyage, and I make it alone."

"It is tradition, Kain. Not even Cecil made the pilgrimage without help," Minh replied, unfazed.

Kain was silent for a moment. The offer of absolution, of potential forgiveness, lay before him. Yet he could not go that route like Cecil, flanked with young, pure children and trumpeted by Mysidia. He would have to complete the journey as Kain Highwind: dark, defeated, and utterly alone. "You give only one more reason why I must," he said finally.

"Young man," Minh said suddenly, turning to face Kain. "I don't know what you want. I do not think even you, yourself know. But I am certain of this - the Light can provide you with whatever it is that you need." He laid a rough, gnarled hand on Kain's armour-clad shoulder and smiled faintly. "Travel to Mysidia, and find your answers there." With that, he released Kain and turned away, moving back towards the festivities at the castle.

For a long while after, Kain sat by the water, staring at his reflection intently. It regarded him solemnly, providing no answers on its own. "To Mysidia it is," he finally concluded, rising to his feet.

**.x.x.x.**

"He's gone." Cecil's proclamation was met by a sharp cry of surprise as Rosa's hands flew over her mouth.

Rydia sighed and rolled her eyes, then winced painfully; whatever had been in that goblet Edge passed her last night, it certainly wasn't agreeing with her this morning. "I'm not really surprised," she said pointedly, though she still felt a twinge of guilt when Rosa paused long enough to send her a saddened glance. Rydia watched as Rosa turned back to Cecil, pestering him with questions. She herself didn't really see what Rosa was so confused about. It seemed fairly obvious to her why Kain had decided to leave them last night in the first place. Anyone with half a brain or at least open eyes could've seen that he was madly in love with Rosa. Even _Cecil_ knew, for Bahamut's sake!

Rosa, however, apparently didn't. "Do you - do you think it's because of the wedding?" Her soft blue eyes clouded with tears once more, and another choked sob escaped her throat. "Oh, Cecil, I _knew_ something was wrong when I spoke to him last night, but I didn't think -"

Edge leaned in towards her, his breath tickling Rydia's ear. "Seems like she doesn't _think_ very much when it comes to that backstabber," he whispered loudly.

Rydia glanced warily at Cecil and Rosa, making sure their attentions were elsewhere, before she bothered to reply. "I know," she murmured in response, albeit more discreetly than the ninja. "What does she see in that guy, anyway?" It wasn't that Rydia didn't respect and love Rosa; if she had to be honest about it, the young blonde was the closest thing to a mother she could remember having - since her own mother had died, at least. The thought made her heart sink, as it always did, even with ten years and myriad experience behind her back. Well, at least _she_ wouldn't be missing Kain's absence from their happy little family. If that spoony knight wanted some alone time to think about all the trouble he'd managed to stir up during the course of their adventures, that was his prerogative and she wasn't about to stop him. Rosa, however, appeared to be willing and more than ready to.

"We have to go after him!" she was saying to Cecil, her face streaked with fresh tears. "After everything we've been through... we can't just let him leave like this!"

Cecil sighed and wrapped his arms around Rosa, pulling her shuddering form in close. "It's not our choice to make, love. The only way we can help Kain now is to pray that his journey is a safe one." His grip tightened as the blond sobbed into his arms, and he dropped his lips against the crown of her head.

Rydia observed their quiet display of affection uneasily, trying not to notice how Edge's eyes had strayed towards her speculatively. Clearing her throat, she pushed herself out of her chair - swallowing a little when the room lurched, _damn you Edge_ - and planted her hands on her hips. "Rosa, come on, stop crying. You're a grown-up now, and you made your choice." She gestured towards the end of the table. "You can't really blame anyone. You already have Cecil - it wouldn't be fair if you got to keep Kain, too."

"Rydia!" Cecil's retort was sharp, and she blinked, surprised at his sudden irritation. She heard Edge snickering quietly behind her and spun around, realizing she might have over-assumed in her haste.

"Wait," she hissed at Edge, trying to get him to stop laughing. "Is that how they do it up here? Can you - have _two?_" A thought struck her, and her eyes widened in surprise. "Can you have _more_ than two?"

Edge only laughed harder. "Oh, Rydia," he said, his eyes twinkling merrily at her. "I like the way you think!"

"As if you would know anything about the way I think," Rydia replied archly. Then she pursed her lips and turned back towards Cecil, a little of the confusion she felt registering on her face. "No, really. Did I say something wrong? Is she really allowed to have both of you?" This earned her an astonishing hoot of laughter from Edge, which she promptly ignored.

Cecil frowned thoughtfully, and Rosa dabbed at her eyes as they both regarded the young Summoner with surprise. "You mean - ah - you really don't know...?" Cecil asked, observing her blank expression. "Rydia," he continued carefully, "Exactly how much do you understand of... _relations..._ between men and women?"

Rydia scrunched up her nose in amusement. "Relax, Cecil. You don't have to give me _the talk._ Asura told me all about human sex. The man puts his thing into the woman's opening down there, right?" She made helpful, illustrative motions with her hands, slapping them loudly together as she spoke. Cecil and Rosa regarded her with twin expressions of shock, and she heard Edge choking noisily behind her. "Umm..." she said, suddenly blushing. Maybe she got it wrong? No, wait... Her face brightening, she clarified the problem. "Oh, _right._ The one in front. Not the one in the back."

Though she couldn't see him, Edge remained suspiciously silent, and Cecil and Rosa's expressions were quickly melting from shock straight into horror. Rydia frowned. She was _sure_ she hadn't gotten it wrong this time. "Wait... you guys don't actually believe all that stuff about the birds and the bees, do you? Because I can tell you for sure, bees and birds just can't do that."

The silence which reigned in the small room was deafening. Eventually, Edge removed his boots from the table and let the chair he was rocking on hit the ground with a solid thunk. "Rydia, babe, I don't think Cecil was talking about _sex,_" he hissed, coughing discreetly.

She turned to him, the frown on her face deepening. "Well, what else is there?" she asked, and by the look of surprise on Edge's face, she knew she had missed something terribly important.

"Love, Rydia." Cecil's voice was gentle, and she looked back to see him, still cradling Rosa in his arms. "There's love."

Rydia winced and dropped herself back into her seat, feeling mildly unsettled. Of course she knew about _love._ Edge was singing its praises to her on an almost daily basis. Especially how much of it she should have been making with him, although that was a completely separate matter. This _thing_ - this _love_ that Cecil was talking about, was what he and Rosa shared. It was also something she had thought that Kain and Rosa shared; at least, she would have guessed it from the long glances and soft touches the two traded so often. Cecil hadn't seemed to mind it - so she had assumed it was just another one of those human quirks, one of the many social mores she had somehow missed out on while growing up in the Land of Summons. It was one she had resigned herself to being unable to understand - monsters had no such qualms about whom to _mate_ with. A single partner was chosen, tested, and if proven worthy, kept for life. Human notions of _love_ were pleasant, abstract things, but also full of uncertainty and confusion, not to mention anguish. Monsters dealt with the whole problem much more simply - _pick__a good one, stick with him, and make plenty of offspring._

She'd thought humans were the same way too: Edward had certainly seemed desperately attached to his beloved Anna. But that didn't exactly explain what had happened between Kain, Cecil and Rosa. Trying to puzzle out why her friends were so surprised and upset was only intensifying the already bothersome headache that plagued her; shrugging, she pushed it aside for further examination later. Humans were so _fickle_ - they always had to make their relationships difficult, didn't they?

"Well, sorry," Rydia said a little awkwardly. "My point is, you've chosen your mate, so there isn't really any reason for Kain to stick around, now is there? He's gone, and I can't really blame him." That was apparently also the wrong thing to say, as Rosa burst into a fresh set of tears.

"Rydia," Cecil chided her once more, though this time his voice was gentle. "You don't need to be so blunt. But..." And with this, he turned to the woman in his arms and lifted her chin gently. "She _is_ right. Kain left us because he needs something that we - none of us - can give him. He needs to find his own peace. I'm sure he'll return to Baron when he's found it."

Edge snorted quietly, and once again Rydia felt herself silently agreeing. Kain loved to wallow in his own sorrows; she guessed the Dragoon would rather drown in them than be saved by any more of Rosa and Cecil's blinding love. And, she couldn't really blame him for leaving - if humans were monogamous, then she could imagine no worse torture than having to live, day in and out, by the side of the one you loved, knowing that she could never be _yours._ She groaned silently; understanding Kain was something she neither wanted nor hoped to do, _ever._ She found herself hoping that whatever journey he was making would take a really long time - something around _forever_ was sounding nicer by the moment.

Rosa let another, quiet tear trickle down her cheek, and Rydia felt her lips twitch, suddenly feeling guilty. No, she _didn't_ quite understand most human emotion, especially this fluffy-_love_ stuff... but there was no reason for her to demand a lesson in the particulars while her friend was upset. Remembering something from their travels, Rydia moved hesitantly towards Rosa's chair, eventually putting her arms rather stiffly around the sniffling woman. To her surprise, Rosa almost melted into her, sobbing into her arm. It was a little awkward - this was her _battle-gear,_ after all - but Cecil was giving her an encouraging smile, so Rydia assumed she was doing something right. After all, Rosa had held her like this when she was a child. If Rosa was going to act like a child, the least Rydia could do was attempt to be helpful.

_I'm no good at this,_ Rydia thought as she jerkily patted Rosa on the head. Maybe it _was_ a pity Kain had left them so soon after all.

**.x.x.x.**

The underbrush rustled ominously next to him, and Kain froze. The sweat beaded on his face, rolling down his neck and making its way underneath his armour where it tickled his skin irritatingly. While the journey to Mysidia had been relatively painless, thanks to the wonder of the Serpent Road, travelling out of the small township in the height of the summer heat was anything but.

He had left the town quickly, stopping only long enough to gather together the most basic of supplies, before setting out towards the east as Minh had directed. The people of the town had eyed him strangely; a tall, built warrior, clad in his unmistakable Dragoon armour. He was exotic, a curious and not entirely welcome sight among the pacifistic community of magicians. They remembered still the slaughter that Baron had wrought on their village - and while Cecil was largely forgiven, Kain assumed this forgiveness had been a direct result of his purification from Dark Knight into Paladin, wrought by the Light of Ordeals. Seeing as he was only now heading to the mountain himself, Kain understood that his own status was an unknown. The cold stares he had received from the few citizens he had managed to bump into made their sentiments clear enough. Not wishing to stay and test his theory, he had set out for the wilds of Mysidia with little more than the small collection of potions in his rucksack, and his good intentions.

The potions tended to be more reliable in times of need, he noted.

Still, as he crouched low against the ground pressing himself flat to the mossy earth and clutching his lance, he wished he had taken more note of the villagers' garb. There was a very non-magical reason that light cotton robes seemed to be the fashion of choice among the people, and he was learning it the hard way. Another trickle of sweat dripped down his back, and Kain shifted in his armour uncomfortably. The heat was stifling; never had he been more tempted to simply shuck the metal off and leave it behind.

A low keening emerged from the bushes to his right, and Kain was immediately reminded of why he couldn't afford to do just that. His muscles tensed as the two Cockatrices burst out of the foliage, squabbling noisily. He froze, glaring at the canopy overhead; Cockatrices rarely travelled alone. He was certain there was a larger Roc circling somewhere overhead, perhaps even a Zu. Certainly not an easy battle. It might have been, had he still been with the party. Edge, with his shuriken, could have dealt with the menace flying overhead - and should he fail, Rydia's powerful magic was certain not to miss. Cecil would have tackled one of the Cockatrices head-on, allowing him to focus on the other, and should a stray glare fall upon an unwary combatant, Rosa would be ready to rescue him or her with her soothing white magic -

He grit his teeth. It was no good, thinking of Rosa - not when she wasn't here to offer her support and assistance. None of them were. He would simply have to be careful. Making his decision, Kain hefted his weapon and bolted from the ground, charging at the first Cockatrice. Thankfully, the element of surprise was with him; the little buggers were much quicker than he was, but no amount of agility could prevent him from splitting the beast in twain when it wasn't prepared for his attack. He speared the lance through the first monster brutally, grimacing as a splatter of blood painted his armour red. The creature died with a quiet gurgle, but its companion immediately began squawking frantically, and Kain cursed under his breath. Rapidly, he ripped the lance out of the mangled remains of the bird and threw it towards his second opponent. It missed, and he swore again, leaping for his weapon and grabbing it out of the tree it quivered against. That damn monster was making so much noise, he was certain it had alerted not only whomever its flying companion was overhead, but everything else with a pulse within the general vicinity.

A shadow passed overhead, and Kain barely had time to spin and slash with his lance wildly before he heard the skittering of talons across his armour. It was a Zu after all - _fuck_ - and it was quite easily one of the largest he had ever seen in his entire life. One of its claws hooked into his chin and left a deep, jagged cut across the exposed line of his jaw; he roared in pain.

"Bastard," he swore, adding several more colourful oaths as he saw the Cockatrice raise its crest of feathers and stare at him intently. It was foolhardy to ignore the angry Zu, which he was certain was diving at him once more; even so, it was certain suicide if he didn't stop the Cockatrice's stare from petrifying him where he stood. Already, he could feel his feet grow leaden, too heavy to lift off of the ground and jump to safety. He fumbled through the small pouch on his belt, his fingers closing around his final Soft - he could tell by the shape of the philtre - and then cursed as the Zu swooped in for a second attack, slamming into him directly and knocking the bottle cleanly out of his fingers. Again, the screech of claw against metal filled the air as the Zu scored his chest plate.

The situation was growing desperate; already, Kain knew his legs were too solid to move, though at least his arms were still free of the petrifaction magics. The remaining Cockatrice snapped at him, and he took the opportunity to plant his lance squarely through its head, pinning it to the ground at his feet in an exceedingly gruesome splatter. Another problem down, leaving only - the breath was knocked out of him as the Zu barrelled into his back, nearly bowling him over, had his legs been flexible enough to still bend.

Movement was becoming difficult; a fuzzy grey tint was clouding the corners of his vision, and his fingers were sluggish and slow to respond to his commands. Kain hated the feeling of being petrified; the process was just slow enough to allow a goodly amount of terror and self-reflection as one contemplated one's own mortality. _Rosa, do you see what I am without you?_ The thought sickened him into action. In one last, desperate attempt, he reached into his pouch, his fingers closing around the first bottle he could find. There was no time to see what it was; he threw it blindly at himself, wincing as the glass shattered against his helmet and the contents of the mixture ran down his face in sticky streams.

The Zu screamed in fury overhead, and for a moment all Kain saw was white. Then, painfully, the blood was rushing back into his arms and legs, filling them with a curious prickling sensation and causing him to sway unsteadily on his feet. _A Remedy._ By Odin's beard, he had managed to find a Remedy. There was no time to congratulate himself over his good fortune, however; the Zu had noticed the sudden revival of its prey and was once again making a pass towards him.

Without hesitation, Kain threw himself into the sky. The jump wasn't as precise as his normal acrobatics, due most in part to his legs still feeling like jelly, but it served to thrust him out of the monster's path of attack. Spinning his lance around automatically, he angled it for the Zu and let gravity take over his fall. The air whistled past his ears, and Kain felt a grim smile play at his lips - _this_ was what he lived for, why he became a Dragoon. Hurtling towards an opponent in an unstoppable duel, with death as the inevitable result - his grip around the lance tightened in anticipation.

The Zu must have sensed him coming, because it twisted at the last moment, attempting to escape the armoured, speeding missile which was now attacking it. Kain threw his weight forward, trying to shift his fall into the direction of the fleeing beast, and managed to strike the creature's wing. It screamed with a shrill, painful cry, Kain's lance embedded halfway through the powerful muscles - and took to the sky.

"Great maker!" Kain swore, adjusting his grip on the lance and planting his feet onto the bird's massive back. How the monstrosity beneath him could even still fly was beyond him, but he ignored his surprise and focused instead on working the weapon deeper into his prey. There was a wet, ripping sound, and then another inhuman scream filled the air as Kain yanked the tip free. A fountain of blood sprayed into the air, misting into the clouds below - and Kain's eyes widened.

_By all that is holy,_ he cursed in shock as he noted the ground passing by distantly underneath him. Not even a Dragoon as skilled as himself could survive a fall from this height. He hadn't noticed the Zu ascending - given, he had been a little more preoccupied with trying to kill it - but as a dragonrider, he wasn't completely unaware of the mechanics of flight. The great, stupid beast must have flown over some kind of promontory; if he dared injure it fatally now, the descent would be deadly to both of them.

The dilemma was abruptly removed from his hands as the Zu began to falter, screaming all the while. The mangled remains of the wing he had nearly shorn off dangled uselessly at the creature's side; with a wrenching feeling in his gut, Kain grabbed for the flailing bird's neck as they plummeted towards the ground at a harrowing speed. The wind howled in his ears, and Kain was thankful for the helmet which protected his eyes from the sting. The Zu continued to flail wildly in his tight grasp in a futile attempt to free itself from its oncoming doom.

He thought quickly; to remain where he was, saddled on the bird, was not an option - the rocks below were quickly approaching, and the impact of their bodies against the unforgiving ground would most certainly be fatal, even should he manage to force the Zu's body to act as a makeshift cushion for the blow. There was only one chance - small as it was, it was still better than the certain death he faced otherwise.

Releasing the Zu, he scrambled to bring his knees up against the bird's back. Channelling all of his strength into the movement, he planted his feet into the creature and pushed with all his might. The Zu let out one final scream of panicked indignation, before plummeting head-first into the ground, raising a cloud of dust and rocks high into the air from the force of its impact. Kain was already airborne, whirling through the sky as he fumbled for balance, swinging his lance around wildly. Jumping from the back of a falling Zu certainly wasn't comparable to jumping off of the solid ground, but in the end, it had worked; he managed to orient himself on the descent and land, if bit unsteadily, on his feet a few paces away. He sank to one knee immediately, his heart pounding as he tried to catch his breath.

_Alive,_ was the first cognizant word that filtered through his adrenaline-spiked thoughts. _I am still alive._ He let out a shaky breath and finally glanced up, then quickly looked away. Judging from the messy remains of the Zu, its death had been spectacular. _That could have been me,_ he thought, and briefly shut his eyes. Could have, but wasn't. Steeling himself, he stood and took in his surroundings.

The Zu, Kain realized with surprise, had done him somewhat of a favour. From where they had landed, he could now make out the silhouette of a solitary mountain peak against the bright blue sky. It jutted high into the heavens, grand and majestic, strangely misplaced in the otherwise gently sloping valley. He hadn't realized how close he had drawn to it because of the tall, dense forest surrounding its base. It seemed almost out of place, standing practically alone as it did; a few scattered mountain ranges were visible in the far distance, but Kain knew as he looked up to the lone peak that he had found his destination. Mount Ordeals, the sacred trial of Mysidia. He frowned at the thought of being tested by some unnamed god - the Light, Minh had called it - but he shrugged off his discomfort easily.

Who was he to question the ways of the gods? He was but a mortal himself - and a fallen one, at that. Shouldering his lance, Kain took a final stock of himself, noticing sourly that his tussle with the Zu had resulted in the loss of most of his supplies. Hunting for dinner it was, then. He passed by the mangled, nearly unrecognizable corpse of the Zu and grimaced. But perhaps only a bit of smaller game tonight - certainly no poultry. Smiling grimly to himself, he set out for the base of the holy mountain with a firm step.

**.x.x.x.**

Kain stared at the rocky path ascending the mountain and nearly laughed. He was tired, dirty and covered in sweat; his armour was dented and worn from the many monster attacks he had weathered. Having used his last potion to heal the cut on his chin and missing his rucksack thanks to the unexpected flight, he was also almost entirely bereft of supplies. The last several days of travel had been comprised mainly of foraging for food, monster slaying and frequent rest. He'd thought once or twice about making this gruesome journey with two untested young mages from Mysidia, and the thought only confirmed his feelings that he'd been right to refuse the offer. What if the children had been injured in the battle with the Zu?

He paused, considering the trail he had carved - yes, _carved,_ he noted grimly - through the forest. Surely, things would have been easier in a team. Kain knew he was a competent warrior; he had, after all, been the appointed leader of the Dragon Knights. But he also knew he was no strategist. It was an area Cecil excelled at; as graceful as Kain was with the lance in the heat of a battle, he was downright clumsy by comparison when it came to the planning and preparation of the actual skirmish. And so, he had reached Mount Ordeals in the only way he knew how - directly. At least, he thought wryly, his detrimental effect on the local wildlife populace would ensure that the path to the mountain would be safe for other pilgrims for weeks to come. And no Mysidian children had been lost in the effort.

But as he began the arduous hike up the pathway, he found he was growing weary of the constant fighting. It truly served no purpose; he was defending no kingdom, nor was he trying to prove his worth in battle. It was nothing more than a mindless slaughter, and after living it daily for so long, it was beginning to numb him. He felt as stained and battered as his armour; he wished for nothing more than a cleansing. Perhaps the journey itself was a purification of sorts; a test of will.

Rounding the corner, Kain drew to a stop and regarded the slope with a slight feeling of disbelief. "Surely this is a jest," he muttered under his breath, regarding the nearly solid wall of flame which blocked the only passable pathway. The fire was obviously magical in origin; though it burned hot, it was unnaturally silent and somehow self-sustained. He approached it cautiously, testing the flames with his lance. The fire parted under the tip of the blade, which began to glow faintly as the holy magic woven into the metal reacted with the flames. Reassured, Kain drew the lance back and took a step towards the fire -

A few low, painful oaths escaped his lips as he stumbled back, armour smoking. Apparently, simply wielding a magical lance was not enough to gain entrance to the mountain. "Thrice-cursed witchery," he spat at the flames, struggling to remove the scorching hot metal before it could sear his skin. He felt uncomfortably exposed when he finally managed to shed the last of his armour, still warm to the touch. He was certain he was sporting a few mild burns where the metal had touched his skin directly. Kain squatted next to his haphazard pile of armour and glared at the fire in annoyance, mentally re-evaluating his opinion of the ever-so-helpful Elder of Mysidia. The fool could have at least warned him that this was to be a magician's trial. Although, Kain realized with a sinking feeling of guilt, Minh had offered magical assistance, and he had turned it down - his damned pride getting in the way, once again. At this point, however, there was naught to be done about it. With a resigned sigh, he sunk to the ground and made himself comfortable, waiting for his equipment to cool.

Hours later, Kain was once again bedecked in his full Dragoon regalia, but no closer to passing Mount Ordeals' wall of flame. Though he had studied the fire critically, watching carefully for any fluctuations or shifts in the patterns, the results had been fruitless. His eyes ached, he felt dry and parched, and the heat radiating from the magical fire was not helping him deal with the summer temperatures in the least. His temper felt as raw as his burned skin, and he was almost ready to call the whole endeavour off and retreat back into Mysidia.

The shameful admittance of yet another failure, of defeat at the hands of his own personal shortcomings and weaknesses, however, stayed his feet. If he could not gain the mountain by his own abilities, he did not deserve... but that thought was not worth following. He would gain access to the mountain; it was only a matter of time.

Finally, he stood up and stretched his sore back, working the kinks out of his muscles. "If no passage will be granted today," he told the flames irately, "then I will simply try again tomorrow." The flames, naturally, gave no indication of having heard his promise and continued to flicker merrily, ignoring his existence. With an exasperated sigh, Kain turned away from the blaze and searched for an ideal location to camp. His surroundings were rather harsh, but the forest was close enough so that he could still gather enough wood for a comfortable campfire and hunt for his meals. Surely, Minh would not have sent him on a fool's quest - there must be a way into the mountain. He required only the patience to find it.

Five days later, Kain was no closer to finding a method to part the flames and growing quickly unenamoured of his daily meals of tough game. Prayer, fasting and meditation had provided no viable results other than a bodily weakness which nearly killed him when he finally decided to take up hunting once more. Repeated attempts to simply walk through the flame had only yielded burned fingertips; his lone attempt to leap over the wall of flame had nearly ended badly when the fire unexpectedly flared up to match his jump. He was tired, dirty, too hot, burned and sore, and he wanted nothing more than for the whole ordeal to be over and done with. And, he thought wryly to himself, it hadn't even _begun_ yet.

He wondered idly if the fire was some Mysidian secret, that only a mage could undo. But then, what was the point of a mountain of trials? And why would Minh send him here, if he knew the mountain would lock itself like a treasure box? No, Minh was perhaps overly perceptive for his age, but he was no trickster. He would not have let Kain go alone were there not something to be obtained from a solitary attempt.

So, on the morning of the fifth day, when Kain rose from his makeshift bed of sparse mountain grass and pine needles, he grimly donned his armour, hefted his lance, and approached the wall of flame with a determination bordering on desperation. He stood before it; it remained as constant and steady as always. He breathed in deeply through his nostrils and held the air in his lungs, gathering his strength.

"WHAT IS IT THAT YOU WANT OF ME?" he finally bellowed. His voice was cracked and hoarse from disuse, and his throat ached from the strain of his cry.

The fire did not change in the slightest, and a feeling of foolishness overcame him. Patience had provided no answers; neither had wit. Brute force had only resulted in injury. Perhaps the mountain really did not wish him to pass; perhaps, he was not even _worthy_ of being cleansed. Kain dropped his head and ground his teeth together.

Somehow, Cecil had passed this trial. Perhaps he had assistance; perhaps he had been judged worthy by the mountain's god. Whatever the reason, he had once again succeeded, while Kain was destined for failure.

Kain looked up and eyed the wall of flame, a dark gleam in his eye. _Not this time,_ he promised himself, stepping away from the wall. So he was not as clever or wise or pure-hearted as Cecil; so he was destined to remain a stranger to Rosa's love, Edge's trust and Rydia's forgiveness. All he would ever know would be the lonely companions of battle and death, the twin yokes of any sworn knight; he could accept that. But what he could not accept was one more defeat, not at the hands of some faceless spirit and a wall of magical flame. If brute force was to be all he knew, then brute force would be his weapon of choice.

Not allowing himself to think any further on his actions, Kain crouched low to the ground, his muscles tensed. Then, with an explosive burst upwards, he leapt into the sky. As expected, the flame rose to greet him; he felt engulfed as the full force of the magic _slammed_ into him with all the weight of a great beast. His armour was burning, instantly, hotter than even Zemus' Meteo; he howled in pain as the edges against his skin scorched him. It was as if something was actually actively pushing back at him - back, back to Mysidia, back to the ground, back to failure...

But Kain was a Dragon Knight, and if there was one thing that his bones and body knew, it was how to manage a fight in midair. He'd wrestled with dragons even as a young boy, and now - through all of the pain, all of the agony, the feeling that his armour was _melting_ into his body as the scent of charred cloth filled the air - even now the response was more instinctual than anything. Kain changed directions mid-air, fighting - somehow, with the core of his being, the only part not bursting with fiery anguish - against that unseen force within the fire. He writhed against it, gripping the spear, using the momentum of the wind itself to carry him through -

- and the fire broke with an almost audible _crack!_ The resistance was suddenly gone, and Kain, surprised, lost control, tumbling through the air - _oh, sweet Odin, when had he gotten that high?_ The ground below him was so much farther than he'd even thought - he'd been flying, as if on a dragon once again. He tried to twist himself, to regain the precarious aerial balance a Dragoon depended on, but every movement inside his molten armour chafed and burned against charred blisters he could already feel. Unable to control his fall entirely, Kain simply closed his eyes and re-arranged his grip on the holy lance in the hopes of _not_ stabbing himself to death when he landed - if the fall didn't kill him first. There was a burst of cool wind against his face, and then a rush in his eyes and ears as darkness edged closer.

It struck him behind the eyes like a full-fledged headache, nettling him into some strange sort of awareness - _but what was this?_ He could feel portions of his body - for example, his palm still clutched painfully around the burning shaft of his lance - but he could move nothing, nor could he feel other important limbs like his legs or fingers. It sounded as if millions were screaming into his ears all at once, the shrieking of angry furies. Desperately, Kain wondered whether this was what it was to die - whether he would expire here, paralyzed and weak, at the foot of Mount Ordeals. He would never even have the opportunity to challenge the mountain - to climb and seek his forgiveness. Perhaps, Kain thought weakly, this was simply the Light's way of telling him that absolution would never be his.

The shrieking and pounding in his ears faded slowly, to be replaced by a peaceful black. The sensations in the rest of his body faded also, a cool, dark sense of peace arriving in their place. Kain sighed and closed whatever was meant to be eyes in this strange limbo. This was the end.

There was a light, somewhere far away from him, and Kain knew that he wasn't exactly _anywhere,_ and that he was seeing this image somewhere in his mind rather than on the backs of his eyelids. A light shone out - a sun - a sun setting beyond a distant and unfamiliar mountain range - pillars, carved of ancient marble - a man, long-haired and fully bearded, walking between the columns - a shape against the sun - the pillars of a temple - the shadow of a man - a man, walking - a long gown - shadowing the sun.

_Go, my friend,_ a voice whispered. It was strange, somewhat reminiscent of the powerful beings they'd met on the moon: thick with ancient magic. _I do not hold what you seek. Go, and be at peace._

No, Kain wanted to say into the blackness, but he could not find his lungs to fill with air, nor his lips to speak. _No,_ he tried to say anyway. _I do not believe you._

The pinpoint of sun flared suddenly and vanished; Kain winced in this void-like space, before another scene appeared before him: moonlight, the two crescents of the moons peaking - a thick column - a woman's voice - a flash, like stars, suddenly appearing across a night sky. There were so many - millions, so many stars, and the temple was silhouetted against the indigo shadow of the darkened skyline. There was another rustle of robes, a flash of pale beard and long hair - a temple made of shadows, dark and peaceful - and then the ruffle of skirts, much like Rosa's, framed by one thin sliver of moon.

_There are no answers here,_ the new voice said. She sounded human, almost familiar to Kain's straining senses. _Not for the questions you bear._

Kain gathered whatever was left of himself in this dream, and with all of his strength, tried to wake up. It wasn't true - it _couldn't_ be true. Mount Ordeals gave absolution; it gave reason and direction, it granted forgiveness. It cleansed. It had done so for Cecil. Even at this level, even deep inside the very core of his being, even in the place where there were no shadows and no secrets - even when Kain admitted his every crime, he still had to hope. Something within him still believed that there was an answer out there, some kind of brilliant Light that would see how badly he regretted every bit of pain he'd caused his friends and blot out all the darkness within him.

His friends appeared before him, now, in the darkness, shadowed by the brightness of the stars and the moon swirling around him. Kain could not determine whether they were real, or simply spectres of his imagination - but he called to them nonetheless. _My brother-in-arms, I am sorry,_ he said as Edge's stern face moved past him: Edge, who had once threatened to kill him had he ever turned traitor again. Then Rydia, her furious, volatile, pixie-like face contorted in tears and anger as he'd never seen her in real life. _Rydia,_ Kain tried to say to her, _it is your forgiveness I seek._ As she vanished past him again, he saw Cecil and Rosa's faces, and he knew: _You have already forgiven me,_ Kain said to their spectres. _It is I who must forgive myself._

The faces of his friends faded away, as did the stars and the moons and the shadow-lines of the strange ancient temple - vanished into the black, merging with the darkness. A cool breeze touched his face: cool and familiar, like the winds of his home. _Kain Highwind._

Kain opened his eyes. He was lying somewhat crooked on the ground, and his entire body was stiff as if he hadn't moved in an eon. He breathed. Whatever world he was in now, it smelled like his own: the scent of dry dust, a cool breeze from the south, and nearby, something faint was rotting. Struggling, he sat up, feeling the pieces of his armour bang unsteadily against each other as -

_Wait._ Kain peeled his helm from his head, noticing as he did so that his hands were not charred or even blistered. He set the helm in his lap and looked at his palms. Across one of them was the faint pale stripe of an old scar, as if he'd touched something very hot, many years ago. He looked closer, and started in amazement when something fell across his face and into his lap. It was his hair - but his hair had grown long, much longer than it had ever been. Kain could feel the weight of it now, on his back. He'd kept it in a short ponytail before; now, it was almost waist-long, thick and tangled.

_How long have I been asleep?_

Kain stood up swiftly, glancing around himself hurriedly. Behind him stood a tall pillar of fire, burning magic-bright against the pale rocks of the countryside. No, this was Mount Ordeals - and Kain had found himself on the other side of the mountain.

It came back to him in a rush: his desperate jump, the fire around him and the sense that every part of him was coated in flame, his frantic push through the column of fire and his disastrous landing in the - _wait._ Kain looked down at himself. Yes, he was standing. He felt fine - stiff, perhaps, from sleeping in his Dragoon armour, but nothing serious was injured or broken. He shook his head, taking a few tentative steps. Well, all those parts worked fine. He swung his arms experimentally. No, those parts worked fine too.

Kain let out a long breath of amazement. It didn't make sense. Even if he'd imagined the fire - and it surely hadn't _burnt_ like an imaginary fire - the landing itself should have killed him outright. And yet here he was, whole and hale, through the fire and ready to climb Mount Ordeals. He almost laughed at the small blossom of hope which had appeared in his chest: there was still a whole mountain to climb, with trials only few could speak of, and he came to the mountain bearing only his spear and armour and good wishes? He had no items, he had no companions, and he had no guide. If there was to be a battle for his salvation, Kain Highwind came to it poorly prepared.

_But perhaps that is the point,_ Kain thought as the tiny speck of hope refused to die. He'd been stripped of worldly possessions and now stood before the mountain as he was: only a Dragoon, friendless and desperate. He'd somehow made it through the first step of his purification: whether it had been the mountain or the wind itself which had granted him passage, he had passed through the fire.

Kain shouldered his spear and donned his helm once again. Behind him, the pillar of flame stood, bright and crisp. Before him, the sleeping secrets of Mount Ordeals waited.


	2. Penance: 02

**Part I: Penance (2)**

Kain pressed himself up against the wall of stone, feeling his hair snag on the jagged edges. He kept his breathing slow and steady, so as not to give away the faintest hint of his presence to the creatures he knew stood round the corner. The putrid scent of their rotted flesh was clearly discernable even at this distance: there was more than one, he knew, and they were still at some distance away. He had a moment or two to catch his breath and formulate some sort of attack plan before the foul beasts picked up on his own scent and attacked him.

Kain almost laughed. He wanted to laugh. He'd been weary of battle and carnage even before he set foot on the sacred mountain, ready for a peaceful journey of solemn contemplation as he climbed to the summit. But he'd been wrong. The guardians of Mount Ordeals were embodiments of battle and carnage themselves: gruesome caricatures of the dead and decaying, clothed only in ancient, dilapidated armour which made no pretence of hiding the rotting flesh underneath. He'd been sick at his first sight of them, walking stiffly across the sacred stone of the mountain toward him like dead soldiers out of his worst battle-nightmare. Kain had even tried to avoid fighting the ghouls at all - but though their armour and flesh had decomposed their swords and spears bit well enough. He'd had to defend himself, as he was potionless, and the slick sound of his spear slicing through the undead skin and bone, the sight and smell of the juices as they splattered - Kain had been quietly ill after that first battle, apologizing profusely to the spirits of the mountain for his stomach's weakness.

He'd learnt quickly that the zombies weren't just mindless beasts. It would've been easier to slaughter them had they been monsters, like the creatures of the wild; but the ghosts of Mount Ordeals seemed just that, ghosts of people who'd once lived and walked the mountain's trail themselves. The sounds they made were uncannily like human speech, in an utterly inhuman way that plagued Kain's nightmares when he slept. Although he did not sleep often; there was little difference between the nightmares of his waking hours and the troublesome dreams of his resting ones. The last time he'd taken an actual rest he'd been perched on a small alcove of rock, trusting his Dragoon instincts to keep him from falling as he leant wearily against the smooth cliff-face and closed his eyes. He dared not sleep long; the inhabitants of the mountain were always prowling - and always hungry. He'd learnt this the hard way. The ghouls of the mountain were as intelligent as they were fearsome.

Holding his breath carefully, Kain shifted his body and slowly craned his head. Bit by bit, painstakingly slow, he turned until his gaze fell upon the first zombie warrior. He moved a fraction more - _three, four, five._ Five warriors. Kain was still holding his breath; the slightest movement, the smallest sound, and the creatures would be upon him. Five warriors he could take, were he careful and cautious about it. The last pack he'd faced had left him with a single potion, a valuable prize; he could not count on such luck to last. Behind the cluster of fiends, Kain could see what appeared to be the beginnings of a path. _Thank the heavens,_ he thought, sighing in relief. Thus far there had been no sign of direction on this blasted mountain. A path was the sort of signal he'd been waiting for.

In his hand, the Holy Lance suddenly flared with bright white light for a single moment. Cursing, Kain ducked back around the corner, wincing as the sharp heat of the weapon burnt his palm - but he did not want to drop his spear, for the clatter would alert the creatures behind him. He heard the rough shuffling of rusty armour and old bones, however, and knew it was too late. The lance had been doing this since their experience at the gate of fire: at times it would light up, as if on fire itself, only to die out before the power of the light could even be explained, let alone useful. Kain had ignored it, as he didn't know what else to do. But never before had the lance betrayed him like this. Kain set the thought aside and gritted his teeth; the ghouls were coming towards him, and he had precious little time to prepare.

A moment of listening told him that only one zombie-creature was moving at the moment, and that it was close. He gripped his spear tightly, edging away from the corner of the cliff to give himself room to manoeuvre. He heard the creature's uneven step catch on a rock, and then the gruesome face appeared, peering around the corner itself in an almost human-like gesture.

_Don't look,_ Kain told himself automatically, even as he threw himself into a lunge, striking the ghoul's sword away with his spear. But he couldn't help it; they all had _faces_, faces which had once been human. This one had been female, he thought, even as he slashed it in the stomach with the tip of his lance; female, with long straggling hair still attached to the few pieces of spotted scalp its skull bore. Its eyes were vast caverns of nothing. The fiend was already weakened, but it lashed out at Kain again, the sword catching the edge of his armour; fumbling, he thrust back, skewering the zombie through its decayed stomach even as it warbled at him. _Don't look,_ he told himself again, but he couldn't help but watch the thing as it fumbled pathetically on the ground, its non-eyes somehow fixed on him. Once, that had been a real face. Kain watched as its movements slowed to nothingness, and the body crumbled into the dust of the dead.

The blow struck him from nowhere, the staff cracking him right where his jaw met his neck; Kain was thrown to the ground by the force of it, rolling awkwardly through the dusty remains of the first zombie before he could come to a halt. He quickly got to his feet, ignoring the pounding of his head and the stinging sensation where the staff had hit - if he remained on the ground, the creatures would have him in an instant. Another blow came at him, knocking him to his knees; almost blinded by pain and dust, Kain threw his spear up more on instinct than anything, blocking the sword stroke that was coming at him. His ears were ringing, and his vision throbbed between blinding white and very dangerous blackness.

Panicking, Kain took off into the air. The rush of fresh breeze against his face allowed him a brief second to clear his mind - although, once clear, the pain of his neck wound only hurt more - and he repositioned himself, tumbling downward with spearpoint first towards the nearest ghoul. The blow struck true, a heavy slash through the undead monster's chest. Kain braced himself against the ground and pulled the lance free, taking a few cautious steps backwards.

The creature turned to him, roaring in its pain and rage. This one was ghastly; it was apparently newly undead. Much of the skin of its face was still in place, for all that it was a sickly grey-green hue. It rumbled towards him, weapon forgotten as its outstretched arms reached for Kain's throat. Its hands were almost completely intact, still, and Kain found himself distracted by the tatters of clothing the creature wore: had it been human? Had it, perhaps, failed in its pilgrimage as well? Rage and disgust overtook him: he would _not_ fail here, at the base of the mountain itself, to become a twisted inhuman fiend like this...

Its hands had almost reached his neck - cold, clammy fingers brushed against his skin, and the touch brought Kain back into reality. He shuddered, leaping backwards immediately and swatting the creature's rotted fingers away with the butt-end of the spear. The ghoul groaned, and for a moment it almost sounded like Kain's name: they were calling him, the creatures of the undead, calling him into their own haunted oblivion. It was a disgusting, bone-chilling noise, and Kain instinctively slashed at the beast before him, desperate to stop the sound. The zombie gave a gurgle as it crumbled onto the ground.

The noise continued; Kain whirled around. The remaining three zombies approached, each one making that eerie keening that filled Kain's spine with dread and disgust. It was almost as if they'd seen their comrades fall - as if the creatures understood concepts like loyalty, and vengeance. Kain shook his head, adjusting his grip on the lance and bracing himself to jump. The ghouls of the mountain brought forth all of his many weaknesses, as if on parade; he could not bear to think of a zombie understanding loyalty when he himself had lacked it. He had to remember that they were just monsters, mindless creatures which stood between him and his goal. They were not human.

He leapt, feeling the cool wind on his face like a blessing. It was easier to deal with the zombies from the air, when he couldn't see their faces and wonder their names. He shifted the spear in his hand, preparing a mighty blow; he'd have to take one out with a single strike to stand a chance. His armour could withstand damage from two of the creatures; three-on-one was perilously close to the danger line, as he'd found out previously. And with only a single potion to his name, he could not afford the risk.

Kain let himself begin to fall, channelling the force of the wind and the earth's pull on his body into himself and his spear - the weapon was an extension of himself, as any Dragoon knew, and as Kain aligned himself he felt the familiar feeling of metal and wood becoming part of his own centrifugal force. He stuck the nearest beast a mighty blow, feeling the energy pull out of the spear and into the body of the ghoul. It exploded into a scattering of dust, clogging his throat and causing his eyes to water and smart. He blinked once, twice, and then muttered a soft curse as he scooted backwards, away from the clutches of his fallen enemy's vengeful companion. It moaned at him, the sound more a gasp of incoherent pain than properly formed words. This one had been a woman once, he could tell. Tatters of soiled white still clung to her decaying flesh, revealing her former trade - a Mysidian, a white mage. Even with her flesh rotting as it was, Kain could still see the echo of beauty that clung stubbornly to her features. Her eyes were hollow sockets, but his imagination easily filled them; all too easily the creature shifted and morphed before him, her arms outstretched, an expression of pain and betrayal on her face. Her mouth opened slowly, and his ears strained to hear the words that dropped from her lips, even as the dread curled low in his stomach.

"Why?" she whispered softly, her guileless blue eyes filling with tears of pain. "Why did you take her from me, Kain?"

He broke into a sweat as she reached for him. "We didn't know..." he said weakly, the painful grip on his lance loosening as the sudden constriction in his chest tightened. "Gods forgive us, we didn't know!" He felt moisture dripping down his face, and for a wild moment he wondered why he had not felt the blow to his head. But when he licked it away, it was not the bite of rusted metal that blossomed in his mouth, but the tang of salt. The creature reached for him again, and he could almost make out the careless sweep of her hair, those ridiculous tufts of feathered ornaments she decorated it with.

"Why did you take mother from me?" she asked again, and Kain found himself unable to speak. Each expelled breath was becoming more difficult as the weight in his chest solidified.

"Rydia," he croaked out, and despite the emotion that lined his roughened voice, he honestly had no idea what he could say to her. "Please..." It was more than a simple attempt at a trite apology. He tried to ask her for all the things he knew she would not, could not give him. His feet remained planted on the ground, immobilized by the force of his regret as her fingers ghosted over his face, lightly brushing away the tears. _It's not her,_ he told himself, even as his eyes tracked the smooth, pale curve of her cheek, the familiar twist of her lips, the haunted, wild look in her eye that no amount of time or coaching from Cecil had managed to erase. Those same eyes looked into the depths of his soul and reflected its ugly truth back towards him. His neck was on fire, his head pounding. The once-gentle fingers suddenly bit into his cheeks, leaving bloody tracks in their wake as he jerked away more from instinct than conscious thought. It was enough, though, to dissolve the illusion that had plagued him; almost at once Rydia's features melted away, only to be replaced by the dull glare of the creature whose grasp he was struggling in. "Forgive me," he breathed, even as his hands thrust forward, "But I cannot fall, not here, and not now."

The creature let out a wordless scream as his lance tore through her stomach, the sound soon reduced to a wet, bubbling gurgle. And then, he was almost thankful as he watched her crumble upon herself, transformed to nothing more than dust which was blown away leaving only the whispers of his memory. Kain stilled, watching the remains of the once-woman dissipate into the darkness of the cavern, even as his mind remained focused on the eyes of blue he had imagined himself to see.

His hand clenched at the lance unconsciously as he struggled to understand why he saw _her_ face. Kain did not put stock in coincidences; his ill fortune on Mount Ordeals was simply too great for him to conclude it anything other than a test. Surely it had to be a test; to believe that this dogged misfortune was destined to follow him for the rest of his days was to relinquish his already wavering grip on sanity itself. Rydia, then - she was the key, or at least a part of the key, to overcoming the mountain's trials. But why _her_, he wondered, and not Rosa, or even more obviously, Cecil himself -

Kain's thoughts were cut short by the whistle of a blade cutting through the air. _The last one!_ There was no time to curse his lapse; he ducked instinctively, forcing his body into a defensive roll even as he felt the swish of the blade pass dangerously close to his neck, nicking a few hairs off of his lengthy braid. Looking up, Kain almost grinned in relief to see his opponent was one of the more malformed residents of the mountain; the only reason he could discern that it was once human was from the tattered armour it wore and the sword held tightly in its black-fisted grip. The moment cost him, however; the thing was more agile than it looked, and it leapt once again, sword outstretched in murderous intent. Kain ducked to the side, wincing as the rusted blade smashed against the wall beside his ear, shattering and sending metallic splinters flying everywhere. He grunted in pain as the thing followed through on its hasty charge, crushing him against the rocky wall and sending a wash of sour air pushed from half-rotted lungs which no longer truly _breathed_ into his face. It was stronger than Kain had realized, and he wrestled with the creature desperately; his lance was all but useless when disabled by close-quarter combat. He opted for smashing his free hand against what he guessed was the thing's jaw, and grimaced in disgust as the flesh separated from his assailant's face where he had struck. The creature's struggle against him did not slow in the slightest, and its hand clamped around his neck, slowly and inexorably crushing his throat.

Even as he struggled, light-coloured spots began to dance before Kain's eyes. He felt as though he were drifting, a mere observer rather than participant in the life-and-death struggle occurring before his very eyes. His lungs constricted, screaming for air, and he found his mind wandering dangerously off course as the whisper of silky green hair brushed against his consciousness. Why _Rydia,_ why now, of all times? What was it that he had to understand about her in order to succeed?

Kain's arms grew slack as his eyes dimmed, even as his struggling consciousness sent one last, stray idea floating through his jumbled thoughts. Perhaps it wasn't truly about understanding Rydia's needs. Perhaps it was about understanding his own. Kain knew he sought absolution for his many sins, but it was with a faint, weary sense of surprise that he realized that his failings - all those things which he found necessary to set right - began not with his betrayal of Cecil. Nor did it begin with the jealous, festering love harboured in his heart despite his mind's best attempts to deny his feelings for Rosa. No - it began with the tear-stained face of a young child, kneeling by the still form of the mother he had slain as fire consumed them all. And it continued in the haunted blue of her eyes, which had aged even more rapidly than her body. Eyes which, despite the meaningless platitudes which fell from her lips, had never ceased to regard him with scorn and mistrust. Unlike Cecil and Rosa - who had the bonds of friendship and a mutually shared past to balm their wounds - Rydia had never truly accepted his apology.

_Rydia. I must have __**your**__ forgiveness first._

With a surge of awareness, Kain forcibly pushed the confusion from his mind and brought his lance forward, trying to simply beat the undead creature off of his body. And then, almost impossibly, Lady Fortune smiled upon him, as if in benediction of his sudden realization. The lance in his hand flared to life painfully once more, stinging his palm as it radiated an intense white light. The ghoul screamed in anger and inhuman pain as it crumbled and collapsed upon itself, unable to withstand the blessed light emanating from the lance in powerful waves.

Kain slid down the wall, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he greedily gulped in the stale mountain air. The ashes of the ghouls that surrounded him soon drifted away, leaving nothing but scattered bits of metal, dried blood and his raging headache as a reminder of their presence. Wearily, he attempted to push himself to his feet. The sound of armour scraping against rock broke the silence momentarily, but it soon ended with a clatter as Kain's knees gave way and he landed heavily on his backside once more. With a resigned sigh, he tilted his head up and contented himself with simply breathing quietly and willing away the pain in his neck. He took the moment of unavoidable rest to consider his options.

Scaling the mountain had proven more difficult that he'd even begun to imagine. It was as though the path to the summit was purposefully hiding itself from him. He considered the glimpse of a trail that he had thought he spotted earlier, but couldn't bring himself to open his eyes and examine his surroundings. If it was simply another dead end, another path that led to nowhere - he choked out a bitter laugh. Knowing that no good would come of staying immobile on the floor of this mountainous death trap, Kain managed to lift one heavy eyelid. Rather than study the cavern, however, he chose to let his gaze settle on the lance held loosely in his hand. He was sure his palm would be permanently scarred from the repeated burns the shaft had given him. It took a conscious effort to loosen his fingers' grip on the weapon, and he studied it ruefully. The powerful light had faded away with the last ghoul, and it looked deceptively innocuous, nothing more than cool metal and carved wood glinting in the darkness. The weapon was a strange partner for him - it should have been familiar in his grip, his most trustworthy ally. But it was proving to be notoriously fickle, sometimes emitting a frightening amount of power at the most desperate times, and at other times leaving him to fend almost completely for himself against near-impossible odds.

"You are a reflection of myself, aren't you?" he told the lance, and it remained dark and silent in his loose grip. "How do I bring out your power?"

As if on cue, the lance pulsed once again, this time filling the cavern with a gentle, soft wash of pure white light. Intrigued, Kain clambered heavily to his feet and held the lance before him. "Do you mean to say all I needed to do was ask?" he muttered with an air of disbelief. It was a ridiculous notion - nearly as ridiculous as the fact that he had begun to address his own weapon as though it were sentient. Somehow, though, Kain realized it was not as simple as he would have liked to pretend. He was certain that the lance was reacting to him. Its sudden 'cooperation' with his desires had less to do with his verbal demand, and much more to do with his vision of Rydia and newfound understanding of his own guilt. He took a wary step towards the direction he had recalled seeing a path, and nearly stopped when the light from his lance pulsed once, brightly.

Kain's fingers twitched around the shaft of the weapon, and he shut his eyes and held his breath. It was almost too much to hope for, this sudden blessing, this tiny reprieve from the directionless wandering he had been forced to endure. Fearfully, he opened his eyes and expelled his breath upon realizing that the lance was, indeed, still glowing with the soft white light.

"Guide me, then," he said softly, and holding out the lance before him, advanced towards the rocky path leading upwards to the mountain's summit.

**.x.x.x.**

Cool wind brushed against his face, stirring the beard that had begun growing on his chin, and whipping his braid out behind him as though it were a length of thick, yellow rope. Kain smiled stiffly, his chapped lips unused to the motion as his muscles of his face stretched in ways that had very nearly been forgotten. How long had it taken him to reach this point? He could no longer remember. Time seemed immutable here; it was only upon exiting the depths of the cavern that he had even realized that his journey was comprised of more than one long, endless night. The sunrise had taken him by surprise; the ghouls waiting at the entrance of the cave, not so much. He was becoming accustomed to the residents of the mountain, almost managing to approach their attacks and subsequent disembarkment with clinical detachment. 

To be honest, much of his accomplishments he owed directly to his lance, which seemed to be increasing in power as he approached the summit. Perhaps it truly was a holy mountain; the lance was practically vibrating with power in his hands now, as he stood before the deceptively small shrine with its plain stone doors.

"The end of my journey," Kain breathed, barely even aware of his own sigh of relief. He approached the doors, bowing his head before them in supplication as he stopped a mere step away from the doorframe, waiting.

Nothing happened. The entire summit was eerily still, as if wind itself had trouble reaching the temple; the gust which had seemingly led him here had vanished, leaving him with no sort of direction or guidance. After waiting for what he deemed as a respectably-long moment, Kain looked upwards. The doors before him were simple: slabs of rock, with no ornamentation or decoration, worn down in uneven spots by time. Two simple handles sat, waiting for him; they might have been brass, for all Kain knew, as they lacked any sort of embellishment or insignia - one, he noted wryly, was actually bent. And yet... the door _ached_ with some sort of ancient grace. Despite its simple appearance - or, perhaps, because of it - the temple of Mount Ordeals radiated power.

Still tentative, Kain reached out and knocked gently on one stone door. The sound was flat, and his gauntlet vibrated strangely against his hand as he pulled it away. Kain continued to wait... and, again, nothing happened.

He tried to swallow the feeling of frustration building up in his throat. It was as if invisible eyes all around the summit were watching him and laughing, as if there were some secret trick to opening the door that Kain knew not. He removed his helmet slowly, taking the opportunity to furtively glance around him. As he'd thought, the mountain-top was empty; so why, then, did he feel his spine prickling? Why was he suddenly filled with embarrassment, humiliation, as if he'd failed in front of the entire world?

_I come to this mountain in supplication,_ Kain reminded himself fiercely. _I come humbled, seeking only forgiveness and guidance. _He still felt ashamed of himself, yes, and his past; but his presence on the holy mount was nothing to feel shame for. Perhaps if he wanted to earn his absolution, the first step was to reach out for it. He tucked his helm firmly under one arm, reaching out with the other to grab the handle and give the door a resolute tug.

The door did not move. Kain tried the other handle; the door did not budge.

"Well," he said aloud, taking a few steps back to try and quell his frustration. "This is an interesting development."

His voice sounded as ragged and weary as he felt, after weeks of nothing more than grunts and an occasional snore. "I am Kain Highwind," he tried, addressing the door for lack of a better audience, "from Baron. I come to..." _To what?_ His voice faltered. "I come seeking absolution," he said finally. "I have come to see the Light."

Nothing happened. The mountain-top was still, motionless, and Kain was still surrounded by the feeling of hundreds of judgemental eyes boring into his back.

"I was sent by the Elder of Mysidia," Kain continued, aware now that his voice was becoming more hoarse and urgent with every word. "He told me - there would be answers here." Still nothing - no motion, no movement, not a sound. Kain felt a fool: standing here unshaven, with a braid down his back, speaking to a set of closed doors in supplication. If there truly were - beings - watching him, he could almost _feel _their cruel laughter.

"I am friends with Cecil Harvey, newly King of Baron, who found his own forgiveness on this mount when he became Paladin," Kain said desperately. "Have you forgotten Cecil? One you called _'my son'_?" He swallowed. "Will you not open your doors for a friend?"

Kain waited for a response - something, _anything_ to let him know that the grace seeping from the temple was aware of his presence. Was his soul so tarnished that he was not even worth a response? "OPEN!" he bellowed, finally letting his frustration get the best of him. He approached the door again, banging on it with his free hand - and then, in a flash of insight, he pressed his spear to it as if the sacred lance were some sort of mystic key. "Open the door!" he cried expectantly. The lance did not change, however; neither did the temple.

His arms fell to his sides, and Kain eyed the lance with angry contemplation. "Will you lead me here, only to abandon me in the face of my goal?" Nothing happened, save that his feeling of wretched humiliation increased.

Kain stepped away from the temple and deliberately set his lance and helm on a nearby rock. He'd seen no zombies anywhere near the summit, and as infuriated as he was with the shrine at the moment, he was relatively sure that it was the power of the temple that kept the beasts at bay. He needed to walk away for a bit, to calm his temper and gather his wits.

He'd climbed this far - nearly lost his life countless times, without even including the literal trial by fire he'd faced at the mountain's base - only to be ignored? It stung, as he thought about it; stung truly, as not many things had. Kain hadn't quite realized how much he'd been hoping for some sort of - Light, forgiveness, answers, _anything_. Recognition - even refusal, at this point. To simply be cast aside, as if he did not matter, was wounding. Knowing that Cecil had been accepted with fanfare and open arms only stung worse, like salt on a cut, or an aching bruise. Kain had received plenty of bruises of his own on the way up here - bruises of the flesh. This particular bruise on his psyche, however, was the worst of them all.

Kain stared off into the horizon. From his vantage point, he could see the mountains surrounding them, and in some cases the lands beyond: here the dark-green of a forest, there a broad plain, and far to his left a sparkling glint that could only be the sea. He looked downward, curious, but the rock-face of Mount Ordeals was silent; there were no signs of the ghouls and zombies which had plagued his ascent. The stillness of the place was alien to a Dragoon, trained his entire life to listen to breeze and wind. Slowly Kain felt his anger and frustration ebb away, as if the feelings were soaking into the mountain itself. In their place came a curious sense of resignation - and peace.

_Perhaps the summit itself is holy enough for sinners like me,_ Kain thought. He'd made his way up here; it would not hurt to rest in this place for a few days to gather his strength. Maybe a sign would come if he waited long enough - he had no prayers, but Dragoons often meditated during their training. He could meditate, and look off the summit of the mountain, and take what he could from it. The Sage had said there would be answers here; he could afford to wait, and think, and rest.

**.x.x.x.**

That night, Kain dreamt. The dream came to him almost the very instant he lay his head against the dusty stone of the summit, as if it had been waiting for him in the rock of Mount Ordeals itself. It was dark, and somewhat cold; he was surprised to feel a throbbing pain in his left side, from his ribs all the way down through his leg. He hadn't been wounded that badly since... _since the day the mountains fell on Mist,_ he thought, suddenly knowing what the dream was to show him. He'd blocked this day from his memory.

It was as if he was watching from one of the balconies in the King's Throne Room; Kain saw himself walking the brilliant red carpet, as he had been. He walked the slow, steady walk of an invalid summoned to his King: slow enough to not cause pain, and graceful enough to be respectful. He remembered trying to imitate the many wounded soldiers who he'd seen in his long years behind the throne, with Cecil, as the King's Wards. Kain remembered, and cringed for it.

_"King Odin," Kain said, inclining his head and slowly, surely, bending his knee in supplication._

_"No, Kain," the King said, his voice surprisingly friendly. "Do not kneel, today. You have been wounded in my service, and I honour that. Do not pain yourself further for the sake of propriety."_

_Kain stood upright, gratitude and relief easily read from his face. "Thank you, my liege."_

_"We have been waiting to hear the story from Mist," King Odin declared. "The entire village of Baron felt the tremor as the town collapsed, and when I sent my men to investigate, they said half the mountain range had crumbled! You and Cecil have done good work, my boy, good work indeed."_

_Kain's head bobbed, a little unsure. "My lord," he said quietly, "we brought the package to Mist as you had asked. But the - the mountains - the earthquake was not our doing." He swallowed. "I cannot take credit for that. I am sorry."_

_"A noble admission," King Odin commended him. "Pray, tell us the story, then. We must know what happened."_

Kain, from his high vantage point, wanted to yell out to his past self: _Do not speak! _His heart throbbed in anguish, and the phantom pain of his wound increased.

_"There was a child," Kain said. "To enter the village, Cecil and I had to defeat a great monster, the guardian of the village. In doing so, we killed its Summoner." He paused, trying to choose his words very carefully. "Her daughter somehow survived the - the package - the initial fire. When she saw us, she summoned forth a great horrible beast from the earth. Cecil and I tried to battle it, but before we could land a blow, it tore the mountains asunder."_

_Baigan's eyes were wide. "A mere child?"_

_"Now you see," King Odin said. "The Callers of Mist are very dangerous - too dangerous to survive. You have done well, Kain."_

_"Is there any sign of Cecil?" Kain blurted before he could stop himself._

_King Odin shook his head. "We have found no sign of Cecil, Kain. He did not appear to be with you." The words were chosen delicately. "Had the two of you separated?"_

Kain, in the balcony, covered his face with his hands. He remembered this all too well, now, the memory he'd forbidden himself to think of for months now. He'd been filled with so much pride at the King's recognition - never before had the King had eyes for him; the gratitude, the praise - it had always been for Cecil. Standing alone before the throne of Baron, Kain had found the attentions much more rewarding.

He looked back up, over the railing and down at his past-self, his dream-self. He watched the indecision on his face, the loyalties torn between _best friend _and _king and country_; he watched his guilty worry over Cecil battle his own desire for renown and recognition. Already he knew how it would turn out. Kain steeled himself to watch, to relive the memory he'd blocked from his own mind.

This, then, was the reason he'd climbed the mountain. Everything had started that day, with Rydia.

_Kain looked up, his face set and determined. "Cecil was leaving with the girl," he said. "He could not bring himself to kill her - not at that point in time, anyway. Perhaps he was going to bring her back to you, my liege," he added, almost hastily. "But when he approached the girl, she screamed, and the beast appeared."_

_King Odin's brow furrowed. "This is terrible news indeed. Is it possible that Sir Cecil has betrayed us?"_

_Kain opened his mouth to protest, but Baigan interrupted smoothly. "Remember the reason you sent Cecil on this mission in the first place, my liege," he said. "This is not __your Champion's first act of defiance."_

_"If he has turned traitor," King Odin said thoughtfully, "he will stay far away from Baron. Send guards to Kaipo, and tell them to look for survivors from the earthquake. Bring them all back to me."_

Traitor. The word ached in Kain's heart; in the end, it had been he who was the traitor, traitor to his friends and to the good of the world. But back then, it had been _Cecil_ who Baron shouted against.

_"Kain," the King continued. "I reward those who serve me best, and you have proven yourself more than worthy. We appreciate your unwavering loyalty to the throne, especially in these trying times." There was a long pause, and the sound of a door swinging open. "I am, therefore, promoting you to a special command."_

_Kain wasn't able to keep the smile from his face. "I am honoured and thankful, my liege."_

_Heavy footsteps approached the throne, and King Odin looked up in anticipation. "Kain, this is Lord Golbez. His quest for the crystals is very important for Baron's future. I would raise you to his second-in-command, his right-hand man, to do his bidding. Will you accept, for Baron?"_

The ritualistic words of a knight's-vow ringing in his ears, Kain looked down at his old self. He'd never been recognized before the throne - not even as he rose in rank with the Dragon Knights. He had wanted this, had _yearned_ for it. He knew exactly what his dream-self was feeling at the moment: idealistic hopes and dreams, thoughts of using his new power to send search-parties after Cecil, idle excitement at the thought of a celebration with Rosa. He'd been so damn proud of himself at that point.

_"Of course, my liege," Kain said, bowing as best he could. "I accept, for Baron."_

_"If you would serve me," said the dark man called Golbez, in a voice as deep as Cecil's: "Kneel."_

_Kain blinked; he looked at the King, whose face was strangely serious and focused. Unevenly, he bent one knee, lowering himself to the ground and trying to ignore the hot stabs of pain running through his side. He bowed his head before Lord Golbez._

Even now, Kain could see the thin dark tendrils of the magic Golbez worked, tracing up his legs and fusing into his body. It had been his first step into the web of deceit and lies Golbez had worked in, through that mind-controlling magic he'd used so easily against Baron and the world.

Kain's eyes opened. It was morning, and the summit of Mount Ordeals looked as it had the night before. Kain brushed the dust from himself, wearily, noting as he did so that the doors to the temple were still closed.

**.x.x.x.**

Days passed. Kain filled the daylight hours with meditations and Dragoon training exercises; he was finding a new strength in familiar moves, as if he'd gained experience in his ascent up the mountain. The training was a welcome outlet for the frustration he felt with himself and, though he was loath to admit it, with the temple's continued rejection of his presence and pleas. It made him feel that perhaps, if he trained hard enough, one day he would be a great enough Dragoon to be worthy of his friends and companions. It was something he could work towards, an actual goal rather than the tender and nebulous path to forgiveness he'd walked up the mountain. Training was something he could _do_, and Kain chose to do it.

His nights passed quickly, in the deep sleep of physical exhaustion. The feeling on the mountain-top was peaceful, but Kain still felt as if there were eyes on him: watching him, expectantly, as if waiting for something important to happen. The doors remained closed, and Kain spent his days a little distance away from the temple itself.

Then, one night, he dreamed again.

Once more, it was as if the dream had been waiting for him to fall asleep that night. This time he felt the stinging ache in his side much more clearly; he was inside his dream-self, looking out of his own eyes at a familiar scene. He was hobbling his way down a corridor in Baron, making for the staircase which led to his quarters. He'd just come from his meeting with the King, and his side and leg were paining him from kneeling so long at Golbez's feet. His body was weary, and his thoughts were muddled and confused.

And then Rosa appeared, as if from nowhere, a ray of golden light in the dark corridor. Kain stopped immediately. She paused before him, her eyes searching his face beseechingly, and Kain noted the tracks of tears on her pale cheeks. His dream-self reached out, brushed its fingers against her face. Kain, inside the dream-self, felt nothing - as if Rosa were a ghost. He watched the scene unfold, feeling the same wrench in his heart he felt every time he thought of Rosa. He'd lost Cecil and Rosa both, that day.

_"Rosa," he said, concerned. "Are you well? What is wrong?"_

_"You have just come from the throne room?" Rosa's eyes may have been full of tears, but her voice was steady and calm, as any White Wizard was trained to be. "Is there news of Cecil? Oh, Kain..."_

_Kain ducked his head. "There is no news, Rosa. They have not yet found him."_

_"I-" Rosa swallowed. "Kain, what will we do?"_

_Kain reached out and took Rosa's hands; they were slightly chilled and shaking a little. "We will go to find him, Rosa," he said. "Tomorrow morning, we will leave, both of us, if he has not yet been found." There was a pause, and he squeezed her hands awkwardly. "I've just been promoted, actually, and so we can have a legion of men to-"_

_"Tomorrow?" Rosa repeated, and he felt her hands jerk slightly. "Why not now, Kain? Cecil could be - he could be wounded, he could be dying! I - I can't sit around here if Cecil might be injured. He may need a healer."_

_The words caught in his throat. "I must stay tonight," he said slowly. "There is a banquet, for my promotion. I must be there to receive my new honours, Rosa. On the morrow, we will go, and..."_

Kain kept his eyes closed as the dream faded; he could feel the warmth of the sunlight on his face, but it brought him no comfort. The feast that had been prepared, the long-awaited recognition of the Dragon Knights, should have been his crowning moment of glory, the pinnacle of all he had strove for up until that point. But the fine fare and drink had tasted like ash and bitter vinegar in his mouth; _she_ had not joined in the festivities, of course. By the next morning Rosa had already been gone; he'd never figured out how a solitary White Wizard had managed to find her way through the collapsed mountains of Mist and into the deserts of Kaipo in a single night. He'd never asked. All he remembered was that morning, when he'd found her room empty and her bow missing, and simply bowed his head in mourning. The report of Cecil's treachery had come in at breakfast, from the one remaining soldier who had found his way to Kaipo, and Kain had been silent through the rest of his meal. In his head, that day, he'd said goodbye to two close friends, believing them both traitors who had turned their back on their throne and king.

In reality, however, he knew he'd been the traitor. He'd betrayed their friendship, something which should have come before promotions and thrones. He'd betrayed Cecil's good sense and Rosa's compassionate heart, which had known that Baron was part of a greater evil. He'd been loyal and true - but to the wrong thing, in the end.

_It all comes back to Mist,_ Kain thought. It had been that day which had separated him from both Cecil and Rosa - both his actions, and those beyond his control. If only the earth had not rent him apart from Cecil; if only the Summoners had not chosen to work their strange magics; if only Rydia could have controlled that powerful manifestation of her fear and anger. Honestly, it had been young Rydia's doing which -

Kain's eyes flew open. There was an odd, awkward feeling in his gut. Had he honestly just _thought_ that? Was there truly any rational way that this was _Rydia's_ fault? No, it couldn't be; Rydia had been but a mere child, no more than five or six, and she'd been both terrified and angry. Her summon had been a thing of _chance_, a young girl's desperate attempt to save herself and lash out at those who had hurt her. And yet... he identified the feeling readily, one he was intimately familiar with. The feeling of guilt, of tired resignation and hopelessness, only this time, it was not directed at himself. Even as he cringed away from the dark, disgusting part of himself that he was trying so desperately to purge on the mountain, he could no more shut out the whisper of malicious doubt from his thoughts than he could erase his memories. _It was not my fault. I was powerless to stop it._ Had he really been blaming this entire mess on circumstance?

_Yes,_ he realized with horror.

He sat up on the mountaintop, eyes unseeing. The sun poured down onto his skin like balm; he shook his head, feeling the solid weight of his braid at his back. The sick feeling in his gut increased. He remembered fretful nights in Golbez's tower, surrounded by the evil, sticky magics of the Four Fiends, cursing at the fate that had led him into Golbez's clutches: cursing it and yet revelling in it, taking pride in the fact that it was he who still remained beside the throne of Baron, he who was the more loyal. It had been a most confusing time - and Kain knew now that his confusion had only made Golbez's job that much easier.

And yet... had it not been for Rydia's summon, he and Cecil would have remained together. It had been the argument about young Rydia's fate that had set him against Cecil in the first place. Kain rubbed his palms into his eyes, trying to clear his mind, but the thoughts persisted. It had been Rydia's summon who had injured him, made him weak - it had been Rydia's doing that had placed fallen mountains between Cecil and himself. It was because of Rydia that Baron's knights had found him, too weak to move, on the pathway home from Mist -

Kain swallowed, his eyes focusing on the unassuming shrine across from him. The doors were still closed. Nevertheless, Kain sensed some sort of change in mood - something tingling in the air, like anticipation.

"You are testing me, are you not?" His voice caught in his throat from lack of use. "Or are these thoughts truly my own?" He paused, desperately waiting for a response - but nothing happened.

His vision on the mountain had shown him Rydia, begging him for answers; he'd asked for _her_ forgiveness, and the lance had responded to his plea. Now the mountain was showing him more, through dreams. Everything revolved around Mist, somehow - Mist, and Rydia, were the key. But how?

Kain bowed his head, more frustrated than before. He had more questions now than he had at the foot of the mountain - and yet, the doors remained closed.

**.x.x.x.**

Kain almost expected the final dream. He came to surrounded by darkness and mist; the mist was spotted by millions of tiny stars. The stars cast a shadow against something - the wall of a building - a great temple, crowned with marble pillars and golden medallions - a whisper, pale in the night:

_That which you seek is not here._

Kain shook his head in the darkness; his hair hit his cheeks, and he realized suddenly that it was short again: short, and dark blonde as it had been, before the fire had bleached it long and pale. _This is me as I was,_ Kain thought. _Not as I am now._

_You will not find your peace here,_ the voice said again, and it was full of shadows and smoke. _I cannot give you that which you seek._

"Why not?" Kain's voice was strangely soundless, yet he knew the voice heard. Was this KluYa? Cecil's father? Was this the Light the Sage had mentioned? "Am I so wasted in your eyes that I do not deserve a chance at forgiveness?"

_The forgiveness you seek is not mine to give._

"Give me a chance," Kain insisted. "I have come this far to strengthen myself on the trials of Mount Ordeals. I have faced the trials, and I have learnt. Please, open the doors."

_Even the Light of Ordeals cannot give you answers,_ the voice replied. _Not for the questions you bear._

The tone of voice - the voice itself - was strangely similar to the dreams Kain had had at the base of the mountain. "Who are you?" he whispered.

_I am KluYa,_ the voice replied softly. _Keeper and Bearer of the Light of Ordeals._

Kain took a deep breath; the mist smelled like smoke and metal. "For the sake of your son, then, let me feel the forgiveness of the Light."

KluYa said nothing, and Kain wondered whether he'd made a mistake, begging in Cecil's name... but he was grasping at straws here, truly. The silence deepened, and Kain felt an almost tangible weight in the air - was it frustration? Pity? He sucked in his breath sharply - as pathetic as he knew he was, something jagged and sharp inside of himself tore and bled at the thought that he was to be _pitied_ by the Light, but not _saved._

_Can you not see?_ KluYa said finally. _The sacred mountain does not have what you desire._

"I do not understand," Kain said, frustration beginning to colour his voice. "Are all pilgrims on this mountain discarded so easily? Your trials and dreams have left me with more questions than I came with," he continued angrily, "and you deny me the chance to earn my forgiveness in your name?" He took another ragged breath, feeling the cold air rush into his lungs. "Open the doors," he demanded. "Let the Light judge me. It is my right! This much I have earned!"

There was no response, and the mist grew slowly, a blue-grey cloud surrounding him. It blocked the stars from his view, and Kain felt suddenly and strangely disoriented as his entire vision filled with grey - and the rock to his back vanished, somehow, and he was falling - plunging through the mist, caught in free-fall, unable to move his arms or limbs as he plummeted -

Kain opened his eyes to warm sun. A breeze tickled his face, the first he'd felt since he began his vigil at the summit. It smelled like fresh things, and spring. He sat up, realizing belatedly that the light wind had done unseemly things to his braid; he brought it forward, over his shoulder, and began picking at the tangled strands which had come loose. The friendly wind bumped his face again, and almost idly he turned to look across the summit.

The doors to the temple were open. The gaze of thousands of eyes fell upon his back once more.


End file.
